


Journey to Oblivion

by DragonForce



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012)
Genre: :D, F/M, I absolutely made RoboForceShipping up and the captain goes down with her ship, I hope you enjoy it!, Lol this is going to be so weird, SRMFF, She goes on a rampage and writes one herself, What happens when the author finds stories for Space Heroes but not this?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:48:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25699090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonForce/pseuds/DragonForce
Summary: (Based off of the cartoon from TMNT 2012)When the team for Super Robo Mecha was formed, no one knew what they had really signed up for. And with five distinctly different worlds mashed into one, who would have? But when a new evil arises, threatening the fate of all galaxies, the team must put aside their quarrels and work together. If not for their sakes, for the rest of the universe's.Warning: Contains RoboForceshipping (PrincessxBlip) and an overload of cuteness from a certain alien monkey :)Theme Song: "Go Big or Go Home" by Manic Drive
Relationships: RoboForceShipping
Kudos: 1





	1. Prologue

**_Prologue _ **

_Five years ago..._

There was one rule that every space cadet, whether training for the Interuniversal Space Armada (or ISA, which, in his opinion sounded just as stupid) or simply earning their living as a freelance for hire, understood. One lesson that every child of every race and galaxy learned from an early age. The only rule that could get you killed--or save your life.

_Trust no one._

It was better this way. _Safer._ This way, he wasn't responsible for anyone and no one was responsible for him. There could be no bitter feelings over a friendship that never had a chance to form and no possible attachments to teammates that he did not want nor need. He was a loner. That had always been his way. For as long as he could remember, he had not needed anyone, and no one had needed him.

Anyone that came across him knew who he was simply due to this fact and no other. For while other space explorers preferred allies, friends, other crewmates to help with missions, he was not one of them. Others were more...team players. But what made them strong, also made them the most vulnerable. Caring for others, taking responsibility for their actions, it was something he just knew he could _never_ do.

Which was probably something he should have remembered _before_ he tried to hijack one of the universe's most defended space stations single-handedly.

It had started off as a simple tactical mission. His job was to infiltrate the base during the exchange of a highly valued weapon. His mission; to prevent the selling of said weapon to a group of known space pirates, assassins, and all-around bad guys. Something simple. A task he could complete in his sleep and _had_ completed a million times in simulations. But something had gone wrong.

Very, _very_ wrong.

He had trusted someone. An insider.

And now, as he bolted down the gray corridors, lazars bouncing off the walls on every side and shouting voices raising the alarm of an intruder, he cursed himself for not following his own advice. It was soundproof. It was flawless. And it was to keep things _exactly like this_ from happening.

As if the blaring warning sirens weren't enough of an indication that everything had got horribly, terribly, _awfully_ wrong.

"THERE!" a voice yelled as he rounded a corner and started down a side passage toward the hanger bay. If he could make it there, he had a chance. And assuming the guards' aim didn't improve, there was nothing he needed to worry abo--

He flinched as a shot nearly took off his leg and jerked away, ducking as two more bullets whistled over his head and exploded into the wall in front of him, smashing through glass panels on either side of him. He shielded his face from the fragments and swung a black bag over his shoulders as he frantically typed the code to the automated doors into his wristband, brushing long blue hair out of his eyes with a huff of frustration. 

According to his intel, there were only two more turns until the hanger...and his escape. But, of course, his way would not be easy. He could already hear the approaching footsteps of the base's reinforcements.

_One word for you guys,_ he thought, already bracing himself for the firefight. _Sneakers._ He granted himself the smallest of smirks, reaching for his weapon and sliding into the hall where a wall of opponents had already gathered. He quickly fired off two blasts. Not directly at them, of course. At the ceiling fixtures. He may have been an agent but he wasn't a murderer.

The sparks from the lights rained down on the soldiers, causing them to cry out and move to cover their eyes from the embers. 

He took the distraction to barrel down an adjacent hall, already fiddling with his wristband to open the next area of doors and seal the ones behind him, blocking off the soldiers attempting to take up the chase. 

_Finally_ , he allowed himself a moment to breathe. The hanger was just around the next bend. He had secured the weapon and would be home free in a matter of--

There was a hiss from a pistol and a bullet smashed into his wrist. He yelled as the remote embedded within his cuff exploded and he quickly yanked it off and tossed the smoking heap of junk to the floor. 

"Great," he grumbled. "Another fine piece of equipment." 

But there was no time to think about it, for even as he forcibly began to pry open the last set of doors, he could hear the fists and weapons beating against the barricades behind him. He knew he needed to go. It was now or never, so, with one last glance over his shoulder, he heaved the iron-clad doors apart and squeezed through, nearly falling into the hanger. Sirens screamed and the doors directly behind him slid shut.

The guards, having at least broken through his defenses, let off two more blasts which reflected off of the plastic panels and an armored guard, arriving just seconds too late, slammed his fist against the door in fury. "COOLSTAR!" he bellowed through the plexiglass, his voice muffled terribly. 

The boy looked up and grinned, holding the bag against the glass tauntingly. The guard shouted something else incoherent and the boy's crystal blue amusement faded as he quickly typed a command into his spare wrist device. Sirens blared the warning and the outer doors slid open, revealing a runway of unused spaceships just _waiting_ to be hijacked. 

Picking a small, but relatively sleek fighter jet, he quickly reached up and closed the overhead latch. As he pumped the engine, he caught a glance of the last doors being forced open. But it didn't matter. They were too late. The engine roared to life and he quickly thrust the joystick into the forward position. 

The ship reacted immediately, twisting at the slightest of his touches and moving steadily toward the runway even as gunfire began to bombard it. The boy adjusted his trajectory and, with one last mocking salute to the men on the ground, he hit the gas and shot off down the launchpad, firing the rockets and bursting forward into space. 

The space station faded to join the rest of the dark and desolate universe. The boy let out his breath and leaned back, his eyes moving to inspect his arm, now lacking his communicator. Well, at least he had completed his mission. It wasn't clean. It wasn't pretty, but it was done just the same.

And there was one thing he had learned that he knew he would never ever forget again.

In the vast expanses of the universe, everyone was an enemy. Everyone was out for their own personal gain, or to kill him, or knowing his horrible streak of luck, both. There was only one solution and he swore an oath to himself right then and there.

_No matter what happens, I will never trust another living being so long as I live._  


* * *

The video ended and the recording vanished from view, revealing a dark hall with a long table and several dozen chairs, all deserted...except for two. The first observer was a man dressed in a dark cloak, his face hidden from view. His boney fingers rapped the table before him and his sharp gaze snapped to the second figure, also cloaked, but balancing something smaller on her shoulders. They had been watching this feed on repeat and they were forming their own conclusions from the cadet's actions.

"Dashiell Coolstar."

The female dipped her head, as though submitting to the man's request. "My lord," she spoke, her voice and language broken and raspy from years of disuse and a foreign tongue, "do you believe this is he? The chosen one?" The creature on her shoulder blinked wide blue eyes and scrambled further onto her head, squeaking cries of what sounded like protest.

"Calm yourselves," spoke the first, raising his gloved hands peacefully as his head turned once more to where the screen had once been. "I believe there is more to this young man that we might see."

"You mean him not being fully hu--" the female began to ask, only to be cut off before her accusation could be voiced.

"It does not matter his race--or his past," he added, frowning at her disbelieving look and the way the monkey-like animal was waiting, twitching its antennae nervously. "He has courage and he has daring. I have yet to meet another that can rival it."

"He's a _rogue_ ," Analexa huffed, crossing her arms disdainfully. "An _outcast_! There's no telling _what_ he might do! He would betray his _own mother_ if it meant swindling something worth a crystal or two. He's not trustworthy _or_ a team player!"

"Then he's perfect."

"But, Sire--!"

"No 'buts', Analexa!" The man rose abruptly to face the heavens where an enormous skylight revealed the twinkling stars dancing throughout the universe. His cape billowed out behind him and he brushed it aside disdainfully. "Destiny has called for a rise to the Great Protector once again. I want you to check in on that young earthling and inform me of his progress. I fear a new darkness is on the rise. We must prepare. Take your little creature, gather the chosen ones, and when the time is right, _bring_ them to me. The time to rise up has come. The five destined to pilot the beast must awaken it once more and we must be sure they are ready."


	2. Post-Prologue

_To whom it may concern,_

_My name is Blip Hanson. I am a student at M.I.T. studying in the fields of engineering and robotics with the intent to design and prepare spacecraft for the Universal Alliance. I am sending this letter, enclosed with a completed application form for acceptance into the ISA training academy._

_I believe I would be a valuable asset to your cause along with the rest of the universe. My skills with electronics are well known at MIT and it was they who first suggested I approach you. I understand the ISA academy is a tight-knit community and the classes are rigorous, designed for only the best of the best. I assure you, I can rise to the challenge. This would be a dream come true and I believe this is the first step to seeing that dream a reality._

_I anxiously await your reply._

_Sincerely,_

_Dr. Blip Hanson_

* * *

_APPLICATION FOR ACCEPTANCE INTO THE ISA ACADEMY FOR SPACE CADETS_

_Name: Lunk Gritton_

_Age: 19 rotations (years)_

_Citizenship Planet: Galliak_

_Reasons for wanting to join: To protect the universe from all and every threat known and unknown to the galaxy._

_Strengths you believe you can bring: Trained in the arts of boxing, fencing, sword-fighting and a trained marksman. Also knows how to handle a spacecraft and can operate any standard fighting system._

_Other comments/notes: <blank>_

_THANK YOU FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION IN OUR PROGRAM! PLEASE ALLOW 10-12 EARTH DAYS TO PROCESS YOUR REQUEST!_

_TO THE STARS AND BEYOND!_

* * *

_To Commander Cossec of the International Space Alliance,_

_Greetings from Planet Galgria! I hope this message finds you well! This is King Truiton of the Fourth Quadrant and it is a great honor to be speaking to you now. The reason for my message is of great importance to me and to my kingdom. It involves the enrollment of my eldest daughter in your alliance program._

_Not only is Elillia trained to handle herself in any situation, but she is also cunning, intelligent and taught in the field of piloting crafts of all shapes and designs._

_But let's not dance around on mere compliments. I am asking for her acceptance more for her sake than anything. You see, while Ellilla is...strongwilled...she also has a rebellious streak. One that is far from fitting for the next Queen of Galgria. It is my hope that enrollment in your program and the subjection to peers her own age may loosen this streak and tame her fiery spirit._

_Please respond swiftly. All of Galgria thanks you for your service and sacrifice to our noble cause._

_Signed,_

_His Royal Majesty, King Truiton of Galgria._

* * *

_//INCOMING TRANSMISSION//_

_To Commander Cossec of the ISA,_

_Commander, this is General Saber from Quadrant 10 Security-X Compound. I have been asked to inform you of a high-value prisoner to be moved from his current holding cell on our planet and returned to Earth to face trial for space piracy along with several other crimes. It has been decided by the courts that the young man, Dashiell Coolstar, shall be sentenced to parole under the command of the ISA where the hope is that he can be rehabilitated to using his piloting skills to better the universe._

_He shall arrive this coming Saturday and from there you will be left in charge of his training and discipline. You may respond accordingly in whatever manner you deem appropriate._

_One...small piece of advice; Coolstar is not known for playing well with others. If it is at all possible to keep him segregated from the other trainees, it may save both you and the government a headache of paperwork. If this is not avoidable, it is my recommendation that you pair him with the quietest, most timid recruits and pray to the Lord above that you don't end the semester with multiple body counts._

_With this warning, I leave you, knowing the future of this man is in the best of hands._

_Farewell and good luck._

_//END TRANSMISSION//_


	3. Destiny's Alternative

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> POV #1: Blip

**Present Day Earth, 2096**

**_ Chapter 1: Destiny’s Alternative _ **

A storm raged across the savanna. The wind howled, sweeping the plain with dust and sand, a gift from the nearby desert. A steady rain fell upon the grassland and thunder rumbled ominously through the heavens. It was a terrible day to be outdoors and almost as bad to be behind the wheel.

At a small, seemingly abandoned warehouse, two shining headlights flicked off and a car door slammed shut as a huddled mass hurried toward the door. He hastily entered the structure, forcing the door shut against the raging winds and shed his coat to the hanger waiting there for him. He took a deep breath, happy to be inside where it was dry and then glanced down at the lower level of the building where a huge mass of melted metal was hoisted—and more directly toward the feet of the teenage brainiac underneath it.

“When I said you needed a hobby, Blip, this wasn’t _exactly_ what I had in mind.”

The young scientist grinned sheepishly as he fit the last plate into place and slid out to meet the confused and slightly exhausted expression of his roommate. Setting down his tools, he wiped the grime from his hairline and stood up. “Yeah, well, I kinda just…fell into it,” he admitted, chuckling to himself, setting down his wrench and pausing, taking in Drew’s appearance, from the ripped jacket to his jeans torn to shreds, obviously by something sharp. Dried blood coated his face and his eyes still held a hint of fire to them. Blip sighed in resignation. “All right. Who was it this time?”

“Some freshman punk who thought he could maneuver a T-class Fighter Jet better than me,” Drew responded, knowing exactly what Blip was thinking and not even trying to deny it. “And before you ask, _no_ , I didn’t instigate it. The brat just _wouldn’t_ leave me alone.”

Blip raised an eyebrow, knowing Drew too well. They’d been roommates for a long time, ever since meeting at the flight academy Blip’s freshman year. Of course, that’d been before…well, before _everything._ And now, here he was, lying beneath the undercarriage of a mangled piece of metal while Drew was out there blasting space pirates from the sky—and beating up the underclasses apparently. If Drew said that he’d been pulled into the fight, Blip had to wonder how many insults had been thrown before the claws came out.

“Okay, _okay_!” Drew exclaimed, seeing his doubtful stare. “So I may have taken a couple of swings at the kid! _So_ _what_? He had it coming anyway!” He moved toward the minifridge in the corner of the lab, grunting with every step.

“Drew, we’ve talked about this!” Blip groaned, reaching for a cloth to clean his glasses. “You’re supposed to set a good example for all the freshmen, not beat them up every time they speak their mind!” He hesitated, watching as Drew reached for a bottle in the door. “Not that one!” he added hastily. “That’s mine! I’m saving it for later!”

“You’re a pacifist, Blip,” Drew countered, grabbing a soda and slamming the door shut, earning a wince from the younger man. “You wouldn’t fight if your life depended on it.” He found a seat and plopped down, making himself at home. “Which is probably one of the reasons why you got kicked out of the academy in the first place.”

Blip balled his hands. “That’s not true!” he protested indignantly, hearing his voice crack even worse than usual. “You know what the real reason was! Come on, don’t do this. Not today.”

“ _Really?”_ Now it was Drew’s turn to look skeptical and blatantly ignore the scientist’s requests. “Because last I checked, you’re 90 pounds of pure peace and serenity, buddy. You haven’t got a tough bone in your body—what little you have, that is.”

Blip grit his teeth. “Enough with the height jabs! I have work to do, so if you aren’t going to _help_ me—"

“Relax! Dude, _chill_!” Drew raised his hands, smirking innocently. “I’m just pushing your buttons, Spec! Don’t get your glasses all twisted!”

“What have I told you about calling me that?” Blip growled, knowing it would do him no good to protest.

Drew pretended to look thoughtful. “That you hate it almost as much as your actual name so I should remind you just how much by using it every chance I get?”

“All right, _that’s it_!” Blip snatched up his wrench. “I may not believe in violence, but I can still do _this_!” He chucked the tool at his roommate. Drew ducked, though the action was unnecessary as the wrench fell short by several inches and landed with a sickening _thunk_ at his feet.

“ _Wow,_ how…anticlimactic and _very_ according of you.”

Blip just sighed, shaking his head, and grabbed his tools to slide back under the wad of metal. Drew chuckled, standing up and moving over to his computer. Blip tried to ignore the persistent clacking as he set to work unscrewing the under panels and digging for the wires and chips inside. The clicking went on for a solid few minutes before pausing abruptly as though Drew had just thought of something.

“Hey, where’d you find this piece of junk anyway?”

“Just because _you_ couldn’t find anything cool if it dropped out of space and landed on you,” Blip retorted, heaving himself onto his elbows to investigate a series of flashing lights. “It was just abandoned in the desert. Looks like an older crash. Possibly a few weeks at least. The internal circuit board was pretty fried but the external mainframe was still salvageable.”

“Techie stuff isn’t really my lingo,” Drew replied. “Maybe try saying it again in English? You _do_ know English, don’t you? It’s…kind of common here on Earth.”

Blip grunted in response. “It’s a Takion Warship, a model that stopped being manufactured after the Second Universal War.”

“And you dug up someone’s metal deathtrap, _why_?”

“Don’t you think it’s _odd_ that a ship that hasn’t been used in over three hundred years just suddenly crash-landed on Earth?”

There was silence and that stillness spoke volumes. “And you _are_ aware that _this_ is why you don’t have a girlfriend?”

Blip didn’t even dignify that with a response.

“No, seriously man!” Drew went on, not to be deterred. “You have no social life and you spend all day fiddling with this— _whatever_ this is.”

“Drew, I’d really rather not talk about it…”

“I’m _just saying_ there are plenty of nice girls out there who would love to date you if you’d just give them a chance!”

“Thanks, but I’m not interested.”

“Suit yourself. But mark my words, _one day_ you’re going to be pining for the attention of a girl and then I’ll uphold the right to say ‘I told you so’.”

“Ha,” Blip responded disdainfully. “When and _if_ that day ever comes, you can say whatever you so desire. But don’t get your hopes up, I don’t think it’s going to happen.”

“Riiiiiigggghhht.” There was a squeak from his chair as Drew spun back toward his laptop and began typing once again.

“What is _that_ supposed to mean?” Blip demanded, sliding out to glare up at his roommate.

“It means you’re hopeless when it comes to love, man, and everybody except for you can see it!”

“Who says I can’t?” he replied stiffly.

“Uh…the hunk of warped and _completely_ useless metal that you are hopelessly trying to remold?”

“I hate you right now.”

“I know.” He sounded far too cheerful about that.

“Well, are you going to help me with this thing or what?” Eager to change the subject, Blip drug himself back under the machine and continued fiddling with the wiring.

“What? And get a chance to be electrocuted or crushed?” Drew laughed. “No, thank you.” He stood up now and moved away from the desk, lining up and landing the bottle into the trash can with a perfect shot. “I think I’m going to head back out there and see what other freshmen are in need of some ‘guidance’.”

“Please don’t,” Blip replied, already knowing his request would do him no good. And then, just to be on the safe side… “And don’t even _think_ about telling any girls how heroic and brilliant I am either. I don’t _need_ that kind of attention.”

“Suit yourself,” Drew replied. “But do yourself a favor; fix your hair. It looks like a rat’s nest.”

And then he was gone and Blip was left alone to his devices.

“A rat’s nest,” the scientist grumbled, rolling his eyes. “Like _yours_ is any better.” But he wouldn’t let Drew’s snarky responses get to him. He had work to do and nothing was going to distract him from his mission. He could just imagine the stories the metal could tell. Of firefights and flying through space on daring and heroic. Blip had always dreamed of one day traveling to the vast expanses of the universe, studying and learning about other life far beyond Earth’s atmosphere. He _knew_ they were out there. Recently, several communications had been established between distant planets. An alliance had already been formed; a coalition of a sort; peace between the worlds with the hopes of learning about one other's culture and forever avoiding possibility of future war.

That was exactly what he'd wanted to be a part of since he was a kid, envisioning one day becoming a scientist. He'd accomplished the first part of his dream and it was almost time to embark on the second. And this piece of "space junk" as Drew had called it might just be his ticket. So what if the girls thought he was dorky and reclusive? Once he had succeeded in realigning the heat barrier and returned the ship to whatever planet it belonged to, _everyone_ would know who he was and _no one_ would care that he had dropped out of the space program because he was afraid of space itself.

He could still see the faces of the other cadets the first time he'd been thrown into a simulator. The way they'd jeered and mocked him, the small, skinny one with the flaming hair and glasses that were always falling off or getting lost, the one that knew _nothing_ about fighting or wielding a weapon or _anything_. It didn't matter that he had an entire map of the universe charted out in his brain and could tell you the distance from any two planets or solar systems, or that he could single-handedly rebuild a passenger V-8 space shuttle. No, all that mattered to the university--and the other students--was that he didn't have the stomach for space-- or flying for that matter. He'd left the academy and he never planned to go back.

Ever.

He didn't need them anyway. He would prove he was just as good as them. After all, astronauts could never begin their expeditions into space without the ships that _he_ repaired. So, in a way, he was still helping the cause, even if they didn't want to acknowledge his help.

Sighing, he grabbed a wrench and heaved himself back underneath the heap of twisted rock and metal. Now _this_ was something special. He could feel it, whenever he was around it. It just seemed to...call to him. Almost as if it was begging him to repair it, which, of course, sounded utterly ridiculous. Machines couldn't talk, or feel, or ask for _anything._ But still, there was _something about_ this one that made it...different...from the others and he was determined to figure out what.

"Come on," he muttered, unscrewing the bottom panel to realign it with the others. "What are you hiding?"

If it hadn't been a motionless, trashed, tangled mess of scrap, he would have sworn it vibrated at his touch.

 _Huh. That's odd._ He attempted to pull out the loose floorboard, but for some reason, it was more difficult than he had been expecting. He tugged, but it didn't come loose and when his grip failed, he was thrown hard onto his back. _This is one of those times when I wish I had someone stronger here to help me._ _All right, one more pull..._

Mustering all the strength he could, he firmly grabbed the panel and yanked. With a snap, the metal went flying, and so did he. He landed hard once again, the now-freed panel crashing down on top of him.

"Ow..."

A strange humming could be heard from underneath the metal he’d cleared away. _Odd. Machines don’t_ _normally sound like that._ And the pattern was strange. Repetitive even. Three long buzzes, followed closely by three short snaps, and then the buzzes again.

_That’s an SOS!_

Realization sparking through his body, Blip hastily heaved the panel off his chest and ducked out to grab his laptop to try and pinpoint the source of the transmission. Quickly connecting to the ship’s mainframe, he typed a series of codes into the monitor. Promptly, a location and a timestamp appeared.

_South Sonaron Desert._

_10/19/2042 10:23 P.M._

_That was almost a year ago_ , Blip realized. But how was that possible, when the ship looked as though it had sunk only a week prior? Logically speaking, time and tear should have worn the outer shell of the vessel to bare metal.

_So why does this one appear only a few days damaged?_

Heart racing, he pulled himself out from underneath the machine and, wiping the grime from his hands, hurried out into the rain. The desert was less than an hour’s drive away and the crash site had been just inside the border. He would be there before sunset. But as he drove, the questions still bubbled through his mind.

How could a ship from ancient times suddenly crash land four hundred years after the end of its manufacturing? And a better question, _who_ was still using it? And why? A warship had no place in an era of peace. Was someone planning to break the treaty? Who? And if so, _why_?

The sand spat at him in vile clouds of dust as he sped through the desert, passing a long-abandoned laboratory and heading toward the setting sun. The crater where he’d dug up the metal was easy to locate. It was _enormous._ Blip guessed that, whatever was left of the ship in his lab, it had been much _, much_ bigger before. Definitely part of the warship, but then again, he _still_ couldn't think if any worlds currently at war.

Arriving, he quickly unpacked and went about, searching for any clues or signs that could have pointed him in the pilot's general direction. He got lucky, finding footprints in the sand. Two pairs. Meaning two survivors? But how could there be survivors from a ship that wasn’t even supposed to exist? And how were there _footprints_? For now, there was no time to ask questions. He didn't hesitate, digging his heels into the sand and taking off. Though he was not a fast runner to begin with, people's lives were at stake. He would _have_ to be fast enough.

The sand lashed at his face and he shielded his eyes, stumbling through the storm to no avail. “Hello?” he shouted, his voice snatched up and carried away with the wind. “Hello, is anyone out here? Can anyone hear me?”

Thunder was his only response.

 _I can’t see anything!_ he thought grimly. _And this storm is only getting worse!_

He would have to turn back soon. The rain was really coming down hard now as he pulled his jacket over his head and pressed on. Rain splattered against his glasses and he hastily removed them, unable to see anyway.

The landscape unfurled before him in a massive bulge of white and yellow and he could see nothing that didn’t belong. But yet, something was pulling him forward, deeper into the storm. It was almost as though his body could sense something he could not.

And then, over the sound of the wailing wind, a soft, almost inaudible whisper was heard.

_“Help…me…”_

Blip didn’t hesitate, wheeling toward the sound and taking off as fast as his legs would carry him. He shoved his lenses back onto his face as he scrambled over a dune and nearly tripped and fell all the way down.

The semi-buried escape pod was easy to spot among the sprawling sand. So easy, in fact, that Blip was surprised he hadn’t noticed it before. The pilot wasn't too hard to find. He had collapsed in the sand a few kilometers away from the shuttle. Blip hurried to help, noting all the blood in the sand around him, possibly caused by the crash. But why was the pilot so far away? And why did it look more like he had been _stabbed_ than crash-landed?

As he reached out to check for a pulse, the man came alive, wheezing and gagging. Blip jerked back but the man lashed out, catching his wrists and dragging the scientist down beside him before he could protest.

"Cyb...cybroid..." the pilot wheezed, his voice weak and shaking. "Stop...you must...you..."

"I-I'm sorry," Blip stammered. "I-I don't know what you're saying."

"Take...take this..." the pilot reached for something around his neck. "Y...you'll nee...need it." He struggled to lift his head and remove the amulet. He shakily handed it to Blip, who looked at it, confused, a million jumbled thoughts whizzing through his mind. _What is this amulet? Why is it so_ _important?_ "P...put it...o-on," the man commanded. "Let them...let them find you...chosen one."

Blip did as he was told, letting the chain fall loosely around his neck, but ignoring the last part. "You're going to be okay," he said as firmly as he could, trying to keep his voice from shaking. "I'll...I'll get you to a hospital, sir."

"No...time..." the pilot coughed. "The beast...is awoken. I...was not ready. But _you,"_ He pointed weakly at the scientist. "You _will be._ You can…take my…place…save…the…universe…”

"Ready for what? What’s wrong with the universe?" Blip demanded, but the man just laid his head back, and before the teen could react, he took one final pained breath...and then lay still.

" _No!"_ Numbed with shock, Blip just knelt there for a moment, blinking back tears, trying to piece everything together. He considered attempting CPR but the man's wounds were far too extensive. It wouldn't do any good. He hadn't been enough to save him.

He held up the medallion the man had given him. It seemed to be shining, catching the brightest of the sun's rays. Why give it to him? And why say he was going to need it?

He was so wound up in his own thoughts that he didn't hear the footsteps behind him, but he felt the shadows stretch over him and heard the cold voice that followed.

"Dr. Blip Hanson, I presume?"

"Now's not really a good time," Blip replied, distracted by the way the amulet was letting off light. Was it refracting or reflecting? How could it _possibly_ be collecting so much light?

"You're going to have to come with us, doctor."

"No," he said. "I'm sorry, but I have to take this man back to his family and-"

Something hard and sharp was drove deep into his neck. He yelped, reacting immediately by bringing a hand to pull whatever it was away. His stomach dropped as his fingers brushed against a syringe needle and he choked, his vision already beginning to blur.

His muscles failed and he barely felt his body hit the sand. Overhead, a shadowy figure stood, watching him gasp desperately for air and crawl helplessly across the sand, struggling for every breath.

"I'm afraid we can't let you do that."

"What do you...what do you _want?"_ Blip wheezed, feeling the darkness swimming through his brain and swarming his vision. The man overhead just continued to stare down at him coldly. Blip fought back an instinctive whimper as everything went black and then, right before he passed out, he heard the man speak in a voice as empty and cruel as death itself.

"We want _you."_


	4. Crossing Blades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> POV: Lunk

**Present Day--Gilliak--2096**

The crash of metal against metal filled the echoing dome, followed by the definitive sounds of laughter. Two figures had taken up defensive positions, swords poised before them, preparing to go another round.

The younger of the two smiled wickedly as she expertly twirled her blade, taunting the man before her. "Getting tired already, Lunk?" she teased, brushing a strand of dark hair from her eyes. "Too much for you to handle?"

Lunk laughed. "You wish, Siara!" He braced himself for a headlong attack, raising his blade as the girl rushed forward, swinging her sword dangerously. The two blades met and countered on another, their owners never budging an inch.

Siara smirked, her light eyes gleaming. "Oh, don't worry, big brother. I'm _sure_ you can beat me, _even_ without a Bond Creature." As she spoke, her body began to glow blue and the faint form of a leopard materialized behind her, jaws wide and sneering with heated golden eyes burning fire. 

Lunk froze at her words, shock flashing across his face. Siara took her chance. With a loud yell, she cleanly knocked away her brother's blade and twirled hers showboating-ly before his chest. " _I win_ ," she gloated. " _Again."_

Lunk growled, pushing the blade away, glaring down at her. "You cheated."

"Did I?" Siara tilted her head, the cat behind her fading away. "Don't recall. You should be more alert, you know."

"We agreed not to talk about _it,"_ Lunk reminded her, gesturing to the open air where the jaguar had just been standing.

"You're a sore loser, you know that?" She lowered her sword and rolled her eyes.

"We said we wouldn't use Bond Creatures this time," Lunk argued. " _You_ said you wouldn't."

"No, I said I wouldn't _attack_ you with Jasper. I never said _anything_ about showing off a little. Besides, it's not _my_ fault you haven't connected to one yet."

His glare was deadly.

"Oh, stop sulking," Siara laughed, strolling past and slugging him in the shoulder. "You'll get it next time. _Count_ on it."

"Maybe someday I won't _have to_ ," he retorted, following slowly. "Because _someday_ _I_ will have my _own_ bond animal and it will be a _million_ times cooler than your boring old Earth-y _cat."_

_"Jaaaaaaggguuuiiirrree,_ " Siara sang, skipping away.

Lunk sighed, pausing to glance around at the delicate structure of the once-great arena. He recalled his parent's stories of what it had been once, before he was born, before the Universal War. Once, spectators from all across the galaxy had come together in an era of peace and unity to watch games and uphold the coalition of the galaxy.

But all that changed when an evil ruler from the distant planet, Frisia, decided he would no longer be content with his world and attempted to overthrow the rulers of the others. (Except for Earth. Apparently, there were many _tiny-bit important_ people instead of kings and queens to govern their subjects. No one wanted to mess with _that_ bundle of confusion). Sometime during the struggle, the war had reached Gilliak and had destroyed the Coliseum. All that remained now were remnants of the once-massive arena, a few marble pillars overgrown with vines and wearing away from age. It was no longer used to host massive events but it still held a special place in the hearts of the Gillian people and it was a great place to train and get away from it all.

Even if he wasn't exactly sure what the _all_ was.

Recently, things had begun to feel...off. Not all cheerful and sun-shiny as it should have been. Siara had suggested he had just grown accustomed to the monotony of life, so she was _absolutely_ no help whatsoever. But she _was_ right about something. Nothing seemed exciting anymore. He trained, eat, slept, and then got up and did it all again. What was his purpose? His hopes and dreams? What did _he_ want? That's the question he had been asked over and over and his answer had always been the same.

_To do what is right._

But how could he do that when everything he knew revolved around punches and blocks? What good was he to anyone? What good was a warrior in an era of peace?

Almost unconsciously, his eyes moved from the ruins toward the sunset. The sky was alive with brilliant colors; pinks and purples and oranges, all caused by the continuous setting of the planet's six suns. Now _there_ was a place for him. Something _new_ and exciting. A place where he wouldn't have to live in the shadow of his sister, a place where he could forge his own name. Where he could be what _he_ wanted to be.

He didn't know what called to him from space. He certainly wasn't one to stray from the traditional path; the one that kept him there, doing the same thing day after day. But something was out there, calling for him to find it. And he would. _Somehow_. Someday.

But for now...for now he could hear Siara calling his name as she ran on ahead, so, taking one more deep breath and giving the heavens a final longing glance, he turned and started down the road after her. 

"Siara," he said as she slowed to let him catch up. "Can I ask you something?"

She twisted to look up at him. "Sure, Lunk. What is it?" 

He hesitated, unsure how to phrase his thoughts. "When you decided to become the captain of the guard," he started slowly. "How did you know...that it was the right decision? That _that_ was what you wanted to do with your life?"

She thought for a moment. "I don't know. I guess...I kind of just... _knew_."

"Not to mention your crush on the general."

She giggled. "Definitely not mentioning that. No," she shook her head. "I think it's just something you discover for yourself. Like, when you find what it is you're destined to do, you just...you'll know. Why?" She blinked. "Do you think you've found your calling?" 

He could almost hear the unsaid _finally_ attached to the end of her phrase. It wasn't normal for a Gillian of his age to not have a role or a Bond Animal. It was...unique. It was unheard of. And it made a lot of people nervous. "Not yet," he admitted, pointedly ignoring the disappointment on her face. "But I'm getting there," he added, trying to cheer her up. "What do you know about the ISA?"

She wrinkled her nose. "You want to go to _space_?"

"You're a great little sister and I _knew_ you'd understand," Lunk grunted sarcastically. "But, really, you're normally this walking book of trivial knowledge, so what do you have for me?"

Siara looked as though she couldn't tell whether she should be pleased or offended. Her brother was often puzzling like that. Even after all these years, she still struggled to tell when he was being sincere. "The ISA is a prototype militia, based on the theories and lessons from the Great Alliance before the Universal War in 1981. It combines the strengths and skillsets of all planets involved. Its base is on Galgria, which is exactly 2.3 million lightyears from here. There are four major outposts on Skiltron, Earth, Zamorin, and here actually."

"Wait...there's an outpost _here_?" 

She looked at him with deadpan. "You're joking, right?"

"No...?" 

"It's just beyond there," She turned to point past the Silent Forest toward the Hills of Lavvar. It was a place where no Gillian ever went, for the twisted paths would lead the unworthy astray. No one who ventured beyond the city's walls ever returned. So how could Siara _possibly_ know what was out there? "No," she sighed, knowing what he was thinking. "I didn't go through the forest, dummy. I went _around_ it."

He stared and she blew a clump of hair out of her eyes in exasperation. "Look," she went on. "I don't know what you're expecting me to tell you, but if going to space is really what you want, then I think that outpost is your best shot. Why don't you go and see if they can help you? It's not dark yet. You could be there by morning."

Lunk hesitated. Did he really want to go? Was this what he really wanted? He realized the answer to both questions was _yes_. He _needed_ to do this. The ISA might hold all the answers he'd desperately been seeking. He knew he had to go.

He started out that night, deciding to follow Siara's advice and take the long way around the Silent Forest. He tried not to think how dangerous it was for him to be there. Especially alone. Especially at _night._

But nothing happened and at dawn's first light, he caught his first glimpse of the outpost in the valley below. It seemed...oddly quiet...and he noted the stillness as he pushed open the gates and stepped inside.

No one saw him.

No one was there to see him.

The entire base was deserted.

He frowned, confused, and carefully closed the gate behind him. _Something's not right_ , his mind warned him as he started down the dirt path toward the nearest hangar, a large metal building precariously built near the back of the encampment, surrounded by high-tech vehicles and a large number of tools and supplies.

_The ISA would never have left their most valuable technology just lying around._

Tensed and ready to swing a punch at a moment's notice, he carefully pushed open the door. It swung loosely from its hinges, squeaking horribly as it did. Lunk waved away ash and dust, peering into the darkness.

"Hello?" he called, scanning the room for signs of life, movement, _anything_. "Anybody here?"

In response, a soft groan could be heard from somewhere in the back of the room. Something moved and Lunk braced himself in case whatever it was was dangerous. "Who's there?" he demanded.

" _Uggghh_...wha...where...w-where am I?" 

A voice rose from the shadows, high and frightened. Lunk relaxed a little, realizing this...whatever this was...wasn't a threat. "Come forward," he ordered. "Step out where I can see you!"

"I...don't u-under...stand," the voice said again. "I...I was just...I...don't...know where I...am."

The figure slowly stood and the sunlight pouring through the dusty window revealed the Earthling. His clothes were torn and dirty and he was covered from head to toe in dirt and oil. His hair was untamed and his glasses sat lopsidedly on his nose. He moved shakily, as though he was waking from a coma.

_Or was just unconscious_ , Lunk thought.

"You're from Earth," he blurted before he could stop himself. The male glanced his way, confusion written all over his face. "Oh, wait," Lunk hastily tried to correct himself. "Maybe I've got the wrong language. Hang on, let me try again."

"No," the human whispered, his voice breaking with fear. "I understood you. I just..." He looked around in despair. "Where am I?"

"Gilliak," Lunk replied promptly, proudly. 

"Gilliak," the redhead repeated faintly. "That's...the fourth quadrant. That's...that's over a _billion_ lightyears away and..." He tried to move but his legs crumpled and he fell against a shelf, barely catching himself in time. "I think I need to...to sit down." 

Lunk watched in silence as the earthling threw himself into an old chair and ran his hands through his hair, trembling. _He_ didn't see what the problem was. Gilliak was a _fine_ planet if he did say so himself. But obviously, the human did not agree. And he didn't seem to understand how he'd gotten there in the first place. 

"Are you all right?" he asked. "Is there anything I can do?" Then, to be polite, he added, "I'm Lunk."

"Blip," came the male's soft voice. "Why am I here?"

"I don't know," Lunk admitted. "I just got here. This was supposed to be a base for the ISA, but you're the first person I've seen. You're not with them, I take it?"

The earthling, Blip, let out a weak chuckle. "No. No, I'm not."

Well, whoever he was, Blip seemed to be in a state of shock. He was probably overwhelmed by everything. And Lunk was beginning to get the impression that he wasn't here of his own free will. "Okay, well, there's no one here," he said, stating the obvious. "But there must be a clue around here as to where everyone went. Come on. Help me look."

Blip watched him from between his fingers, not looking totally comfortable. "N-no t-thanks."

"Look," Lunk sighed. "I'm here looking for the ISA. You have no idea why you're here. Wouldn't it be faster for us to work together?"

This actually seemed to make Blip think and he slowly stood up, moving over to a nearby pile of torched papers and crumbled pieces of the roof that had caved in after many apparent years of disuse. 

Lunk set to work sifting through files and binders on the shelves before him. Books on codes, how to crack them, star systems, planets, ecosystems, all typical research equipment that one would expect to find at a space station.

_But why is everyone gone then?_

Had they been attacked? By who? There had been no reports of mercenaries or warlords in the area for months. But buildings didn't set themselves on fire. 

There were only two solutions.

Either the base was attacked...or the ISA torched their own research and made everything virtually disappear.

So, the question became; what could be so valuable to warrant either action? No one attacked (or torched) a simple trading center. _What_ was the ISA hiding?

He moved the last of the binders aside, finding nothing inside to help answer his questions. 

And that's when he saw it.

"What?" Blip asked, seeing him stop. "Did you find something?" Before Lunk could reply, the human was already working his way over, still shaky but growing increasingly less like a fish out of water. He reached the table and his eyes fell on what Lunk had found. "Oh... _wow_..."

They were _blueprints_.

Blueprints for some kind of gigantic robot.

"What is this?" Lunk demanded. 

"It's...it's a weapon," Blip answered, his voice growing faint once again, picking up the paper and holding it toward the light. "And...I don't know _why_ but...I think we're supposed to build it."


	5. An Heir of Danger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> POV: Princess

**Galgria--Present Day--2096**

"NO!"

The scream was followed promptly by the slamming of a door and the King flinched back at the brute force of the rejection. "It's only for a few days, Elillia," he tried to reason through the thick oak. "All you have to do is go to some of the allegiance's outposts, show your face and _pretend_ like you care about your mother and I's legacy. Just for a little while. Is that so hard?"

She fumed, slamming her back against the wall and standing on one foot stubbornly, her arms folded firmly. "I _don't want_ to go to any _stupid_ planets!" she yelled. "You _can't_ make me!"

"I am your _father_ and your _king,"_ he snapped. "You _will_ respect my authority. Your mother--"

"I _don't care!"_ she retorted. "I will not go to some _stupid_ planet for your _stupid_ peace treaties!"

"You are acting like a _child_!"

"Well, you're _treating_ me like one!"

"You're a _princess_!" the king snapped. "It is your responsibility to do this for your people!" When she didn't respond, he went on. "You're going, Elillia." She huffed but did not continue to protest. "And you're taking Liasion with you."

No, nope, not happening. "No way!" she cried. "I'm not going with _him_!" Not to mention how much she _absolutely could not_ stand the man or how her father had so _unsuccessfully_ attempted to match them. There was no way, _absolutely_ no way, she would ever go to a peace treaty summit with someone that she was tempted to kill every second of every day.

"You _will_ go and you _will_ support peace throughout the galaxy," the king ordered. "And for the universe's sake, _smile._ You look like someone you hate died and then magically resurrected."

" _Hmmph."_

The king sighed. "You leave immediately. Pack your things."

Elillia growled, chucking the nearest thing she could at the door. Her shoe bounced off and rebounded underneath her bed. With his point made, her father, rolling his eyes, turned and headed back down the hall.

"Stupid peace treaty," the princess snapped, heaving herself up and storming around her room. "Stupid rules. Stupid _life_. I don't _want_ to go to some _boring_ old peace treaty!" Growling, she yanked out a bag and began stuffing random articles of clothing inside. She _had_ to find a way out of this. A loophole or a trick or... _something_. "Who wants peace anyway? No one cares!"

She scowled at her room, wishing it would somehow spit out all the answers to her unsaid questions. Why her? Why was she so different than her family? Why was the only thing they ever thought of was preserving the peace while she focused on other things, such as getting everything she wanted without a thought or care about the wellbeing of others?

People said she was a selfish brat with no concept of caring whatsoever. She couldn't say she disagreed. She'd always had _everything_ she could ever want. She'd never been one to give anything she didn't have to either so that _probably_ wasn't helping.

 _Seriously_ , what was she supposed to do about _that?_ Give away her treasures? Be _kind_?

_Ew, no. Forget that._ _Kindness is for the poor, underfoot class. I never will sink to such mediocre mannerisms. Ever._

And the peace treaty was just another example of how she didn't belong.

 _Why not have a war?_ she grumped. _It would be a million times better_ _than_ _a bunch of_ _old_ _people sitting around_ _fretting_ _over a future that is_ never _going to happen._

With a huff, she dumped her bag from the bed and flopped in its place. There were times she wished she wasn't royal. Then she wouldn't be _literally forced_ to travel the vast expanses of the universe for some arrangement she had wanted no part in to begin with.

There was a sharp knock at her door and she sat up with a groan.

 _Speaking_ of arrangements she didn't want.

"Go away, Liasion," she snapped, knowing full well that it was him at the door.

"Princess," came his stern voice. "Your father wishes me to escort you to Gilliak and, with the utmost respect to the both of you, I cannot decline such a duty and an honor."

 _Sure you can_ , Elillia thought dryly. _Say no_.

But Liasion was not like that. Loyal to a fault. Loyal to the crown, at least. A stickler for the rules as well and according to her father, the _perfect_ match to level her hot-headness. _Boring_ was more like it. _Even_ a Gardinian cat was more exciting than him and _all they did_ was _sleep_ all day.

"Whatever," she groaned. "Let's just get it over with."

"Now, Princess--" Liasion began to reprimand.

She sighed, standing up and blocking him out as she slung her bag over her shoulders and started to the door...and four days of utter torture. She yanked hard at the doorknob, nearly taking it off, and when the door flew open, she scowled darkly at the neatly-dressed man before her.

"...responsibility...honor...happy..." Liasion went on as she shoved past him and stormed down the hall.

 _"Happy_?" she exclaimed. "I'm supposed to be _happy_ about this?"

"You're not required to be...as you put it simply...happy," he answered placidly. "However, as the eldest heir to the throne, you have a responsibility to your subjects and to the universe to uphold the peace. Your father and your...your mother...both worked very hard for what they have now. You should honor their hard work and this is the best way."

She huffed. "But do I really have to go to Gilliak?" she complained. "It's...so...so..." she hesitated, struggling to find the word. " _Boring_ ," she finally said.

"I see," Liasion sounded a _little_ too pleased with himself. "And how much to do you know of the ISA, Princess? Do you know how or when it was formed or what it was designed to do?"

 _How much do you really know about your family's legacy?_ came his unsaid words and Elillia was ashamed to say _nothing_. "I don't _have_ to," she retorted sharply. "It's not _my_ peace treaty."

"The ISA is _everyone's_ ," Liasion argued, hurrying after her. "Every universe is counting on this alliance to uphold the delicate threads of trust and loyalty. To not make an appearance could jeopardize everything that we have worked to achieve."

" _We_?" Elillia sniffed.

"Just trust me, Princess. One day, you'll see how important this treaty is and you'll understand."

 _Keep dreaming, Liasion_ , she thought as they rounded a bend and came face to face with a battalion of soldiers, completing their training for the day with a five-meter jog. Elillia winced at the shrill whistle from the commander and the bark of his orders, instinctively cringing back toward Liasion who seemed less than phased.

The man glanced her way but wisely said nothing.

"Ellie!" came a voice from across the courtyard.

Both glanced up to see the eager orange hair bouncing over the crowd and the young prince's excitable grin and freckled cheeks as he came running toward them, arms open wide.

"Hey, Jakito," the princess replied calmly, allowing her little brother to hug her knees, for that was all the child could reach. He giggled, wrapping his body around her and squeezing tightly.

"Carry me, Ellie!" he squealed. "Faster! _Vroom_!"

Elillia sighed. "Not now, Jakito. I have to go." She tried to take a step but only managed to stumble. She grunted but the prince didn't take the hint, clutching her legs tighter.

"Hey, buddy," Liasion interjected, noticing her discomfort. "Why don't we go get some icecream? I hear a new shipment has just arrived from Kilderra." There was no emotion in his eyes as his gaze met Elillia's and he held out a hand to her sibling.

"Yeah!" Jakito cheered, letting go of the princess and hurrying over to take Liasion's hand. "Icecream! Yay!"

"Why don't you head on down to the launch pad and I'll meet you there?" the man suggested as Jakito began to drag him away excitedly. "This won't take too long."

"Whatever," Elillia said, shrugging. She watched them hurry off and she folded her arms, feeling uncomfortable and alone. The sky was bright and cheerful but she didn't agree. She dug a foot into the dirt and sighed. A faint breeze rustled the trees and the rainbow-colored leaves swooped to the earth all around her. She was aware of the odd looks the passerbys were giving her but she couldn't have cared less. So let them stare. She knew what they saw. The incompetent daughter, a disgrace to the Galgria throne, a perfect example of why her seven-rotation old brother would be a much better ruler than her. Because seven-rotations was _so_ much more mature than nineteen-rotations _somehow_.

 _Let them think what they want,_ she thought. _I'm going to be queen one day and_ then _we'll see who's laughing._

With a glare at the last observer (who fled immediately upon being spotted), she spun on her heels and started toward the launchpad on the far side of the courtyard. Overhead, she heard the familiar whinny of the winged horses returning from their migration and she glanced skyward as the shadows passed over her and disappeared toward the stables.

She ducked her head as she stepped back inside and started down a side corridor toward the faint sound of rocket turbines. She weaved through a maze of passages and hallways. Everything was silent. It was still early. No one outside of the castle would be awake yet.

So why then did she hear voices echoing from somewhere inside the building?

She paused to listen.

_"...tell her...too dangerous...time...not ready...truth..."_

She frowned. Who would be up at this time? What were they talking about? And why did it sound dangerous, whatever it was?

 _It's none of my business,_ she decided. And she really didn't want to get involved if it was at all avoidable. _Let them figure it out. I have my own problems to deal with._

The voices abruptly stopped and she froze, her breath catching in her throat. Had she been discovered?

_"Someone's here..."_

She spun, but no one was there. "What?" she snapped to the stillness. "Who's there?"

A voice whispered in her ear. " _You shouldn't have come here, Princess._ "

And then something wrapped around her mouth and nose and she remembered nothing more...

* * *

Darkness...

Pain...

Whispers all around her. She groaned, fighting against unconsciousness. Her head pounded and her heat throbbed, threatening to burst from her chest. What happened to her? The last thing she remembered were the voices in the darkness. What happened after that?

 _I was drugged,_ she realized. _And probably kidnapped._

_So where am I?_

"What do we do? Is she _dead?"_

"I don't--oh, wait, no, she's coming around now."

Voices rattled around inside her skull and she groaned again, weakly lifting a hand in the feeble attempt to block the noise. Someone reached down to help her up and the next thing she knew, she was teetering unsteadily and her stomach was reaching for her throat. "I think...I'm going to be sick..."

" _Ohhhh_ no." The hands on her shoulders hastily spun her around. And just in the nick of time as what felt like a month's worth of breakfast's reared their ugly heads. 

"Well, that's an interesting 'hello'," spoke the first voice, his tone dripping with sarcasm. 

She had no idea who these people were but she already knew she wanted to kill them. 

"Hey," came the second voice. It was higher, nervous, and _extremely_ mind-numbing. "Miss? Are you all right?"

 _"No_ ," she groaned. "I _most certainly am not_. Where am I? Who are you...people?"

"Ah..."

"Um..."

Finally managing to compose herself, she stood up and turned to face the two males behind her. The first was Gillian. He was standing a little further back, arms folded and eyebrows raised. The second was certainly not Gillian. It was obvious that he'd been the one to help her up. She didn't like how close he was...or the way he seemed to be watching her with curiosity.

But there was one thing that scared her more than anything, even more than being kidnapped or thrown to who-knows-where.

Wherever she was, she was trapped with her very worst hated enemy.

A human. 


End file.
